The Lightning That Struck Twice

Margaret watched from her bench as her grandson Liam played padel tennis with his friends. The thwack of the ball against the racket echoed with a rhythm that took her back sixty years—to the crack of a baseball bat against summer air. She closed her eyes, and for a moment, she wasn't in a Florida retirement community. She was sixteen, sitting in the bleachers with her best friend Ruth, watching Jimmy Patterson swing for the fences.

That's when she saw him—or thought she did. A man in a faded cap, walking slowly past the padel court. The same cap Jimmy had worn every day since 1958. Margaret's heart did that curious thing it sometimes did now—a flutter, then a pause, then a steady drum.

She'd heard Jimmy had moved into this community last year, after his wife passed. But she hadn't called. Hadn't visited. Some things, after six decades, seemed too precious to risk disturbing.

"Grandma?" Liam was standing over her, grinning. Sweat streaked his forehead. "You were miles away."

"Just thinking," Margaret said. "About an old friend."

"The one from the baseball stories?" He nudged her shoulder. "I've been spying on you, Grandma. I know you keep that photograph in your nightstand."

Margaret laughed. The picture was worn at the edges, but Jimmy's smile remained unchanged—except for the few wrinkles that now matched her own. That summer, the summer they graduated, lightning had struck during the final game. Everyone had scattered for shelter except her and Jimmy. Under the concession stand awning, rain drumming overhead, he'd said something she'd never forgotten: "Some things are worth waiting for, Mag. Even if it takes sixty years."

"Could you call him?" Liam asked gently. "For me?"

Margaret picked up her phone with trembling fingers. The number was still in her address book, transferred from a Rolodex to a flip phone to this touchscreen. One ring. Two rings.

"Hello?" His voice—deeper now, roughened by time, but still him.

"Jimmy," she said. "It's Margaret. I was watching my grandson play sports, and I thought of that summer. The lightning storm. What you said."

Silence. Then his breath hitched. "I have the photograph too, Margaret. Every day, I look at it and ask myself the same thing: am I too late?"

"No," she said, as lightning flickered over the padel courts, as rain began to fall, as Liam squeezed her hand and slipped away to give them privacy. "No, Jimmy. We're just in time."